I Never Promised You A Rose Garden
by Screaming Mimi
Summary: I'm back, after way too long. Anyway, here's chapter 3. Thanks for all the reviews! Keep it up, they make my day.
1. Default Chapter

_Finally, I've beat my writer's block. And I ended up with this. I'm trying to write a good long fic that doesn't turn into crap, like all my other long ones. Do tell me if it's any good or not. There'll be some big surprises in up coming chapters, and I'll update as often as I can. Oh, and please please please review! It's what keeps me going :-D   
  
_

I Never Promised You A Rose Garden  
_(Title taken from a song of the same name by the Suicide Machines)  
_

  
Mimi watched her cracked, red, bleeding hands react to the seemingly never ending rain. They were held inches above a tarnished doorknob and didn't seem to want to make the commitment. She watched the rain wash the traces of blood down her hands, so it made patterns across her arms. They shook slightly, but only from the effort of holding them in a position which hurt so much. _This is ridiculous_, she thought.Her hands, almost fearing her command, flew to the doorknob. As she turned it, she watched her arms with a rapt fascination. Track free. It was such a glorious sight, seeing her mulatto skin smooth and pale and clean. The door clicked open.  
I'm home. She called once inside the door. A few notes from a stray guitar could be heard wafting through the apartment. They stopped abruptly. Footsteps followed. Mimi didn't move, she wanted to enjoy this moment. This is what she came back for, right? This eternal bliss?  
Her lover said, a half smile gracing his features. He stepped into her and kissed her on the lips. He was warm, a sharp contrast from the outside. How was your day? He never broke eye contact. He sure was gorgeous, perhaps that was why she loved him.  
Good. And yours? Mimi returned the smile as best she could. Her hands stung under his. He noticed her wince.  
What's wrong?  
  
Tell me. Mimi didn't answer. He looked at her with a concerned expression. She wondered if he really cared. Why won't you tell me? Still nothing. He squeezed her hands gently and she bit her lip despite herself. Your hands... He commented, piecing it together and holding them up to his face. Why didn't you say something? This looks really painful...  
It's nothing. She yanked them away from him and tucked them under her sleeves.  
Come now, I have some lotion. He disappeared, leaving Mimi alone with her thoughts for a few moments. The apartment loomed around her, shaming her with it's large white walls and her little dark self standing in the middle. She could almost hear her heartbeat pound off the walls and she commanded it to be quiet. But it was not as cooperative as her hands. What made her this nervous?  
Okay here we go. Roger said, squeezing some of the white substance onto his hands. It looked like milk. Suddenly, Mimi longed for a tall glass of milk. How long had it been since she had milk?  
He lifted her hands into his and massaged them gently. Her heart beat faster. Was it this contact? Was she back in freshman year and the boy who she had a crush on had handed her his pencil, their hands brushing in the process? Was it like that? She hoped not. The lotion felt good, nice and cool.  
Where did you get this? They hadn't had money for much in a long time, things like lotion seemed trivial when they could use that for something more important.  
I have my sources. He smiled. Don't worry, it's legit.  
She smiled back.  
Here, let's get you into some warm clothes. This could be it. Roger made her feel safe and happy, warm like she had a place to belong. Someone who cared. And one is better than none.   
He led her back through the apartment and into the bedroom. He helped her out of her wet clothes, his big hands doing it carefully, skillfully, as they had done countless times before. He lay her on the bed and kissed her sweetly. She was a child again. She never had to do anything. Mimi listened to the rain pound on the thin roof. Her hands stung.  
  
  



	2. 2

_This chapter is a whole lot longer than the first one. Because I know how much you all loved the first one. So come now, spread the love. Gimme some LOVIN'!_  
  
Oh my god. The first words that had Mimi had spoke all day. The music pounded in the background of the seedy club and Mimi could hear the women outside the bathroom, changing clothes, talking about boyfriends, anything to keep their minds off life. Oh, my God. The little blue plus sign burned into her mind, as it had done almost two years earlier. If her life was so full of positives, why was it so miserable? This can't be. This won't be. She couldn't move and she did not wish too. She just sat there, staring at the little test that she held in her hands. She was on soon. She would have to stand in front of all those men who cared about nothing, cared nothing about her or anyone. Cared about themselves.   
Mim didn't cry. If she had cried with everything that had gone wrong, she would be out of tears long ago. It just made no sense any more. But somehow, this seemed different. It didn't affect only her, it wasn't just her secret little problem. She couldn't keep it a secret like that.   
A thought crossed her mind. She could always get rid of it. No one would have to know. Another dirty little secret. But... no. No, she couldn't. It was her fault, not the child's. Child. Oh God. Not now, she was too young. But old for her age. She recalled those words she had spoken so long ago and wished she had not spoken them. She was 21. She should be graduating from college, having parties, getting drunk and thinking about her future. Instead, she had this. No future.   
I have to go. She said to herself and stood up. She left the bathroom, the test clenched in her fist so tightly her hands began to bleed again. I have to go. She repeated to herself as people tried to interrupt her path to the back door. She continued on and on, right out the door and on to the street. Now what?   
Mimi stopped. The rains had stopped, but it was still bitter cold. She could go home to Roger... She almost laughed at herself for that thought. She had nowhere to go. She was alone again and it was her responsibility. Roger couldn't do it for her. She went to the one place she knew.  
Her hands hesitated again above an identical doorknob, but the opened it without her telling them too.   
Mimi! Wow, long time no see! What's... Mark trailed off as he studied her distraught expression. What's wrong?   
Mimi couldn't speak. She was afraid what might happen if she opened her mouth. Instead, she just thrust the piece of plastic into Mark's chest. He took it tentatively.  
Oh, God. He said, visibly paling. He bit his knuckle in thought, in comprehending.  
What are you going to do?  
Mimi said nothing, just shook her head. Shrugged. She came here for help, not to be interrogated.  
Well, there is always...  
Mimi interjected, knowing what he was about to say.  
...Okay, well you could keep it. Mimi just looked at him. It was her child. It would inherit her faults. All of them. Oh, right. Oh, God. Mark was the one to shake his head this time. You have to tell Roger.  
NO! I can't! I don't even know if it's... if it's his... Mimi trailed off, her voice beginning to betray her. Mark's eyes widened.  
He doesn't have to know that. How far along are you?  
I don't know... a month maybe....  
You have to tell him, Mimi. You know you do. She shrugged. Tears stung in her eyes. She forgot how much they burned. I'll help.  
Thank you, Mark. Before the tears even began to fall, Mark had embraced her small frame. He hugged her tightly. We'll get through this. I know we will. We've gotten through life this far, right? We can get through anything now. Mimi laughed bitterly.  
He asked, perplexed.   
Oh nothing, She said, wiping the silent tears from her eyes. That just sounded like something Angel would say. Mark smiled sadly.  
Thanks, Mimi. He hugged her again, and she felt the fabric of his wool knit sweater against her face. You can stay here tonight, if you want. If you're not ready to go home, you know. He said after a few moments.  
No, no I can't. I have to face him. I have to tell him. But I may take you up on your offer if things go as I think they will. She was never aware of opening her mouth and speaking these words. Just all the sudden she heard them coming from someplace distant and she realized later that it was her who said this. She realized when she was waving good bye to Mark and heading up the stairs to their flat.  
She could run away. That was always an option. She'd die and it would die with her. Together, intertwined in a way she and Roger never could be. But the part of her that remembered how lonely it was as a child to be alone in that big scary house told her hand to open that doorknob. She began to become aware that she wasn't in control anymore. She was a pawn to her mind's plans.  
  
Hey baby! Guess what? Roger came bounding into the kitchen, beaming.  
She tried to match his enthusiasm.  
Someone hired me! I'm playing a gig this Saturday, and we could get almost $100 from it!  
That's great! She kissed him lovingly. She did love him. She had to.   
Yeah, I know! So how was your day?  
Her smile wavered. She had to tell him. Had to. Now, now was her chance. But then he would be mad, and he would kick her out and she would have nowhere to live and that would be the end of that. The room began to spin in front of her, almost as it did when she got high. But this time it wasn't enjoyable, it didn't make her feel relieved. No, it made her feel sick.   
Something wrong? You just got really pale. Roger's voice came from afar and she could hear herself dismiss him. No, she wanted to say. No, help me. I need you. Her legs carried her clumsily across the room. They felt like twigs, if she stepped to hard, she was afraid they would shatter.  
You sure... you're all right? Roger said, grabbing her arm. She could tell what he meant. He thought she was using again.   
She wanted to go back to Mark's. He was so easy to tell. She tripped over her own two feet and began to fall, but Roger caught her. He lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.  
He placed her gently on the bed, but instead of deftly using his fingers to undress her, he stood above her, glaring down.  
Tell me, Mimi. Tell me the truth. Where were you? She could detect a note of worry. She knew he worried if she was sick. He didn't want to lose her again.  
Mimi could hear herself dismiss him again. Suddenly, his gentle expression changed into one of fury. In a flash, he pinned her arms to the bed and squeezed them so tightly it hurt. She made a sound of pain and shock combined, but he paid no attention.  
TELL ME. He said through gritted teeth. He was so close to her face she could have counted the hair of his stubble. If she wanted to. One... two...  
_Nowhere, Roger. God. _Seventeen, eighteen...  
Mimi, I'm sick of this. Don't you dare lie to me. TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK YOU WERE! Thirty six, thirty seven... DO YOU HEAR ME? He shook her with each of his words, to punctuate them with an extra little something. His grip tightened and Mimi could feel his fingernails digging into her skin. She lost count.  
Yes, Roger. I hear you... She was surprised to find that what she was thinking, she said. She was in control again. It frightened her.   
THEN ANSWER ME!  
Oh God, Roger, don't be mad. White knuckle terror. She began to wonder if she would pass out.  
ANSWER ME! He raised his hand to smack her across the face and Mimi turned her head in preparation.


	3. 3

_Hey all, sorry for the delay. But here I am, back! Thanks for the reviews :-D They rock my socks... so keep 'em coming! And thanks to Maureen for proofreading this :-D_  
  
But it never came.  
LET GO! Mimi opened her eyes to see Mark holding Roger's hand back. He looked at his former roommate with an intensity Mimi thought impossible for someone like him.  
No, Roger. I won't let you hurt her.  
SHE'S LYING!  
She hasn't said anything yet. Calm down, Roger. Calm down. Come, Mimi. Mark extended his other arm to Mimi. Mimi didn't move. Mimi, come on. We'll go to my place so Roger can calm down, you can tell him later.  
Tell me WHAT? Roger fumed, still thrashing against Mark.  
No. It's now. I have to do it now. Or else, I don't know. I don't know what I might do. Mark looked at her, shocked. He didn't move, ignoring Roger's desperate movements.  
Well, if you think that's best. He let go reluctantly and Roger turned to face Mimi, face red from the effort.  
I'm WAITING!  
Be patient, Roger. This isn't easy.  
Shut up, Mark. Tell me, Mimi.  
Mimi looked to Roger. She wanted him to hug her and everything to go back to the way it was before. But something reminded her it was far from perfect before. It was as if she was caught up in a tornado and she just had to let it get worse and worse.  
I... I... Her voice cracked. No, she wouldn't cry twice in one day. Not even in these circumstances.  
Roger crossed his arms and stood looking down at her, there was an almost military tone to his stance.  
I'm... I'm pregnant, Roger. Roger's bright red face paled instantly and his face went slack. This was not what he had been expecting. Not at all. Roger didn't move. He felt much like Mimi when she had first found out. His knees went weak and he collapsed to the floor. Mimi and Mark watched as his too thin body shook with the power of his sobs.   
  
So what're we going to do? Roger asked, sitting in an upright fetal position on the couch.   
Mark looked to Mimi to make sure he was right to talk. We don't know.  
Oh, God. I'm too young. Not now. How can we do this?  
We'll do it Roger, we have to. Roger looked to Mimi who avoided eye contact. She looked small and scared, and he suddenly became aware that she was a good three years younger than he. He watched Mimi bite her thumb nervously and look off to the side. Mark stood beside her, never breaking eye contact with Roger.  
Roger said, finally as he stood up. I'm sorry. He hugged her and felt her frail body in his arms. It'll be okay, Mimi. We can get through this.  
So you're not mad?  
No, no of course not. Roger smiled to reassure her, but to be honest, he wasn't sure what he felt. He would ignore it, maybe, since this was as close to bliss as he was likely to reach.  
  
The days passed, and Mimi and Roger didn't talk of it. They avoided it as best they could, trying to carry on with their lives. But something was missing, Mimi observed one day. Roger never used those callous fingers on her anymore, unless it was to hand her something and they brushed accidentally. If Mimi was deprived of contact before, this starved her. The slightest contact, even if it was merely eye contact when Roger went to turn out the light at night and his eyes met briefly with hers, made her pulse quicken. She wondered when she had developed this dependency. It was like Roger was her drug, she had fallen into that trap again. The withdrawal was painful, worse than anything she had experienced.   
I got these for us tonight. Roger said, placing a box of ramen noodles on the table. He was never mean, and still acted in almost the same way. Almost.  
Oh, great.  
Do you want me to make   
No, I'll do it. Mimi stood up from her place at the table and shuffled over to the stove.  
  
Any time. She poured the water into a pot. It seemed heavy, she feared that she may drop it and they would fight. But since when did she care?  
Do you want me to do anything?  
No I'm good. She watched the water, remembering that old saying her mother told her about a watched pot never boiling. She watched anyway and rubbed her still chapped hands.   
How was your day?  
  
Did you go to work?  
Mimi didn't answer. She hadn't been to work since... since then. She couldn't bring herself to step back into that seedy club and dance for those men who didn't care. She couldn't bear to bring her child into a world like that.  
Why didn't you?  
Again, Mimi stayed silent. The water in front of her began to bubble slowly. She ripped open the orange packet.  
You know we need that money, Mimi.  
I know. She held the chunk of dried noodles in her hand, watching little pieces of it crack and fall off. The steam made her face damp with moisture. She wasn't hungry.  
You know I don't mind, anymore...  
I know.  
You have to go, Mimi.  
She dropped the rectangular piece of noodles into the water, and it splashed up onto her skin. It didn't hurt, but she gasped anyway. Perhaps she was hoping Roger would touch her.  
You okay? He didn't move.  
I'm fine.  
Mimi, you need a job.  
I'll get another one. She could. She was smart enough. A high school education didn't mean nothing, she could easily get a job as a cashier.  
Like what?  
I'll go to the grocery store tomorrow. They'll hire me.  
I hope they do.  
They will. She found a spoon in the sink and stirred the noodles. Slowly, the broke up and moved more fluidly in the bubbling water. Noodles are done. She said, when the required time had passed.  
She carried the pot to the table. It felt ten times heavier this time. She wondered how noodles could way this much. They ate in silence. I'm going down to Mark's after dinner.  
  
Because I want to.  
Oh, okay.  
You'll be okay?  
Yeah, don't worry about me. She hadn't eaten the noodles yet, just stirred them around and around, watching them pick up other noodles and leave some behind. It was mesmerizing. Roger didn't notice.   
I'll see you later. Don't wait up for me. Roger stood abruptly and left, leaving Mimi still sitting at the kitchen table, stirring the noodles round and round.  
Roger stood momentarily outside the door before descending the steps. He could carry on, they hadn't talked about it since. It was like it wasn't even there. He would say maybe it was just a dream, but that was so cliche. He needed to get out of there. Get out of that apartment that seemed to oppress him perpetually.  
he said after knocking. Mark, open up, it's me.  
  
  



End file.
